Beautiful Liars
Page 8
“I’ve got it covered!” Delilah hollered back. Within moments,she was pushing into Emma’s hand a strange brew of vanilla vodka, pineapple juice, sour mix, lime juice, and milk that the club had christened the Horny Goat.
Emma recoiled at first, then chased down the tasty concoctionas easily as vitamin water. “This was a great idea!” she squealed, gyrating her hips to the turgid rock beat. “I needed this!”
Her gaze swept up and around, across the black-and-white West Coast rock scene images lining the walls, then onto the packed dance floor of rock disciples. She noticed a young peroxide beauty channeling Debbie Harry from her hottest Blondie era. She also noticed the man grinding against her.
It was Dean Paul Lockhart.
She glanced back to see Delilah swaying obliviously to the music, both hands sweeping in the air, feeling no pain.
But Emma Ronson was suddenly hurting bad.
THE IT PARADE
BY JINX WIATT
Fill in the Blanks
You know the old saying. Ex marks the spot. And sometimes it’s a nasty one. Morning television’s hottest new gay star (the coffee and muffin time slot is the place to be for those in entertainment who live life out and proud) is reeling from the are-they-or-aren’t-theyrumors about his very married BFF. Now who should turn back up but his scandal-plaguedformer boyfriend, a super creep who presented himself as Steven Spielberg’s nephew and mooched off every worthwhile restaurant and bar in Manhattan. Will bygones be bygones?
11
Finn
It amazed him. How much time he could daydream away analyzingthe situation with Dean Paul. The situation that did exist. The situation that might exist. The situation that he hoped could exist. These thoughts often occupied Finn for hours.
He checked his mobile again. Yes, the signal remained strong and clear. The problem was that you could not psychicallywill someone to return your call. Or rather your last five unanswered calls. But who was counting?
Finn just lay there in the dark, wondering what the hell to do with himself, knowing that something had to give. It was ridiculous to carry on like this, to be a prisoner of this secret paralysis. But only one thing could cure it. A phone call, an e-mail, or a text. Any simple sign that Finn had not been banishedfrom Dean Paul’s life could always snap him back to the land of the living.
The vibration of his mobile caused Finn’s heart to lurch. He clamored to check the ID screen, spirits crashing upon realization that the incoming call was coming from Tilly’s cellular.Disappointed but still curious, he picked up. “Hi, Tilly.”
“Finn!” Tilly exclaimed. “Thank God you picked up. I had this fear that you would be at some gay disco and not hear your phone.”
“No such luck,” Finn remarked.
Tilly bulldozed on. “Have you heard from Dean Paul? He’s not picking up his cell, and I have no idea where he is.”
“Same here,” Finn answered, feeling a moment of pure solidarity. “I’ve called him a couple of times and haven’t heard back.”
“Well, this is so irresponsible,”Tilly hissed. “Don’t you think? I mean, what if there was an emergency with Cantaloupe?”
“Is everything okay with the baby?” Finn asked.
“Yes, of course,” Tilly assured him. “I’m just speaking hypothetically.Horror of all horrors, what if something did happen?I shouldn’t have to go on a scavenger hunt for my husband and the father of my child on a Saturday night. He ought to pick up on the first ring. As far as I’m concerned, this is tantamount to spousal and child abuse!”
Finn rolled his eyes. Only Tilly could make such a dramaticleap. “Well, if I hear from him tonight, I’ll tell him to call you.”
“Don’t bother,” Tilly huffed. “If he doesn’t call me soon, then I’m turning off all the phones anyway.”
“So how is Cantaloupe?”
“Oh, she’s an angel as always,” Tilly answered in a singsongvoice. “I missed her bunches today. Veronika took her out to a mommy-and-me class and then to a checkup with the pediatrician. Now she’s reading her a bedtime story. I’ve scarcely had a moment with my own child the whole day!”
Finn was speechless. Why would Tilly assign the nanny to all of these intimate maternal duties? But he did not give voice to the question.
“You’re so great with children, Finn,”Tilly went on. “They adore you so. Have you ever thought about adopting a puppy?”
“A puppy?”
“Well, yes,” Tilly replied. “I think that’s a nice compromise.I just don’t believe that gays should adopt or have childrenthrough high-tech fertility means. I’m a firm believer in the traditional nuclear family—mother, father—”
“And nanny,” Finn cut in acidly.
“Oh, God, yes,”Tilly said, not picking up on the hostility. “It’s impossible to raise a child without one.”
“But people do it all the time,” Finn said. “Maybe they think of their children as actual people, though, and not fashionaccessories.”
“I’m so glad to hear you talk about family values,” Tilly gushed. “Most gay men are such decadent pleasure seekers.” She sighed. “I have to run, Finn. My La Prairie cleansing mask has stayed on far too long and it’s hardening into cement. Please call if that awful husband of mine happens to reveal his whereabouts. Bye-bye.” Click.
Finn stared at his mobile in absolute disbelief. Could he really blame Dean Paul for being unfaithful to that woman? His stomach knotted up in anxiety at the thought. Is that where Dean Paul was tonight? Having an affair?
A sudden storm of jealousy raged inside Finn’s heart.Why did he feel like Dean Paul was cheating on him, too? What a strange response. This situation was beyond fucked up.
Sometimes Finn hated himself for the complicated feelingsthat Dean Paul stirred within. And other times he gave himself a break and just tried to manage them as best as he could.
He worked like hell to treat the relationship as nothing more than a platonic friendship, but feelings always crept in to complicate. His reactions to simple gestures and behaviors ran him up and down the emotional scale.
Dean Paul wielded an uncanny and unprecedented power over him.A casual phone call carrying an invitation to exercise or grab lunch could send Finn’s spirits soaring through the sky. And a failure to return calls—such as the ones Finn had made over the last few days—could send him down into the depths.
What they shared was an easy friendship. Finn had becomea B-list substitute for the straight guy buddies that Tilly had forced Dean Paul to give up. Intellectually, Finn knew the score. But emotionally, he could not stop himself from reactingto every moment as if it were a love affair. Maybe because in some pathetic way, that is precisely what it was. At least for Finn.
He sensed that Dean Paul was well aware of his effect on him, too. Someone that narcissistic could not exist in the dark about that. Plus, it explained Dean Paul’s penchant for occasionallyacknowledging the unspoken feelings and raising the bar in an off-color, humorous way that simultaneously titillatedFinn and twisted a knife in his heart.
It’d serve her right if you were sucking my cock whenever we got together.
Who knows? Next time I cheat, maybe it’ll be with you.
At the end of the day, it was all a joke to Dean Paul. Still, Finn surmised that there was some kind of reciprocal attraction. He had danced around flirtations with enough men to know. It was an attraction that would never be acted upon. Not in a million years. But it was there. And just knowing that triggered in Finn a craving for proximity on any terms.
Sometimes Dean Paul would get bold and say the most outrageous things just to see what kind of reaction he could provoke in Finn. At other times he seemed uncomfortable, maybe even ashamed, and he disappeared for days at a time, ignoring all contact. The inconsistency was torture. But Finn came back for more again and again. Dean Paul had become like a drug. And Finn was an addict refusing to go to rehab.
He wondered if Jinx Wiatt’s snarky column mentions had pla
yed a part in Dean Paul’s latest attempt at going AWOL. That bitch’s blind item gossip teases were written in twenty/ twenty vision. It was the easiest guessing game in town.
Finn’s mobile vibrated again. He felt another surge of hope in his heart as he reached for it. The incoming number was unidentified and rang no bells. “Hello?”
“It’s been a long time, babe. Do you know who this is?” The thrashing sounds of Hole’s “Celebrity Skin” blasted in the background.
Finn shut his eyes. “Benjamin Fitzpatrick.”
“Bingo! You must miss me.” He laughed. “Actually, I go by Benji now. Benji Patt. It’s shorter and looks better in boldfacein the columns.”
“Really? I haven’t noticed a single mention.”
“Keep reading,” Benji shouted over the music.
The cocky edge to his voice instantly annoyed Finn. Shit. He sure could pick the right guys to fall in love with. Benjamin the flim-flam fag and Dean Paul the heartbreaker. What a track record.
“Congratulations on the talk show,” Benji went on. “That’s awesome. I’ve only caught it once. But you’re a natural.”
“Thanks,” Finn replied flatly.
“I’ve got some projects in the works. They just haven’t been announced yet.”
“By announced yet, does that mean by you or by law enforcement?”
“Meow,” Benji mocked in reply. “Retract your claws.”
Finn just lay there, steaming in the silence.
Benjamin Fitzpatrick was his most significant ex-boyfriend, a relationship that lasted almost a year, until it was revealed that the guy was a fraud and a con artist, passing himself off as Steven Spielberg’s nephew and bilking bars, restaurants, and boutiques out of free drinks, dinners, and merchandise all over Manhattan. Finn had felt such guilt and embarrassment by associationthat he spent thousands of dollars to make restitution.
“I did the Miami thing for a while,” Benji trilled. “Then spent some time in Austin and L.A. But I missed New York. So I’m back.”
“Great. Who are you pretending to be this time? Paris Hilton’s half brother?”
“I’m through with those games,” Benji insisted. “I don’t need to be someone else. I can make things happen on my own now.”
Finn merely shook his head. Benji was smoking hot and a consummate charmer and manipulator. But he was also full of shit.At least there was an upside to this surprise phone call. Finn was experiencing no residual feelings whatsoever. In fact, his central nervous system response to the entire exchange was a total flatline.
“What’s up with you?” Benji asked. “Are the rumors true? Have you become a homewrecker?”
“Take care, Benji,” Finn said dismissively.“I’ll look for your name in boldface.” He started to hang up.
“Because I’m here at Retox watching your boyfriend right now, and it looks like he’s getting ready to seriously wreck some blonde rocker chick.”
Finn stayed on the line, his heart pounding all of a sudden.
“I’ve got the whole thing on cell phone video,” Benji said proudly. “I figure TMZ will make me a sweet offer.”
“I’ll make you a better one.”
“Then you better hurry your ass over here.”
THE IT PARADE
BY JINX WIATT
Fill in the Blanks
They say opposites attract. The cowboyand the lady. The blue collar hunk and the pampered city girl. And so on. But who on earth could have imagined that oh-so-snotty Black American Princess linking arms and tipping back Cristal with hip-hop’sreigning kingpin mogul? One thing is certain. She better trade her Pilates classes for kickboxing. Why? Those around-the-way girls who are never shy about moving in on anotherwoman’s man definitely know how to fight.
12
Simone
“I’m not coming up!” Simone screamed. “Bring Chanel downstairsto the lobby right now, or I’m calling the police! Seriously, Tommy, I will call them!”
“Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to keep your voice down,” the uniformed doorman scolded her.
Fighting back tears of frustration and rage, Simone ignored him. “I hate you, Tommy! I fucking hate you!”
Discreetly, the doorman gestured to a security guard.Within seconds, he stepped over to Simone and took firm possession of her arm. “Miss, please exit the building immediately.”
Simone shook free of his hold. “Get your hands off me! That crazy son of a bitch has my cat! He’s got my cat!”
But the shocked faces staring back at her—belonging to the doorman, the security guard, and a few residents passing through the lobby—seemed to indicate that the only crazy person in the building was Simone.
The doorman swiped the front desk telephone receiver from her hand and engaged in a brief, hushed conversation with Tommy before hanging up as the rent-a-cop half-pulled, half-escorted Simone toward the exit door.
All of a sudden, she was standing on the sidewalk, bawling as if the world had ended.
Passersby walked onward with little interest.
Simone just stood there, crying convulsively and wrackingher brain about what to do next. Tommy’s theft of Chanel had occurred a few days ago. Since then, he had put her off with phone tag games and scheduled meetings that never materialized.
Raw with nerves, she glanced upward to Tommy’s penthouselevel apartment. “Chanel!” she called out desperately, tears streaming down her face.
It was the violation and sense of powerlessness that had Simone so upset. The thought of Tommy hurting Chanel never entered her mind. Even now she was dangerously close to the edge. Going there would certainly tip her over. And so she refused to consider it. Simone was giving Tommy Robb just enough credit. Psycho bastards like him must have limits. Stopping short of cruelty to animals had to be one of them.
Feeling more vulnerable than ever and not knowing where to turn, she called Tilly, operating under the extravagant hope that the woman could offer some advice or even a moment of comfort.
“Simone, please make it quick,” Tilly snapped right away. “The timing of this call couldn’t be worse.”
“I still don’t have Chanel,” Simone cried. “Tommy won’t give her back. I don’t—”
“You have a missing cat,” Tilly cut in. “Okay, I have a missing husband and father. Dean Paul is nowhere to be found. The columns seem to suggest that I could find him in Finn’s bed. But apparently that’s not the case. I’ve already checked with him.”
“How long has he been gone?” Simone asked.
“I haven’t seen him since early this morning.”
Simone felt the urge to throw her cellular into the gutter. What a self-absorbed bitch! This was hardly a future plotline for Without a Trace. But she played along. “Are you worried?”
“No, I’m pissed off,”Tilly shot back. “And anger is bad for future lines around the mouth, so I’m slathering on the La Mer cream as we speak.” One beat. “You sound terrible. Are you crying?”
“Security just kicked me out of Tommy’s building,” Simone said tearfully.
“Simone, please! ”Tilly exclaimed. “You said he was stalkingyou. Now it sounds like you’re stalking him.”
“Tilly, he kidnapped my cat!”
“Honestly, Simone, this is not a grown-up situation. I’m an adult woman with a child to raise and a husband who’s about to be unemployed. I have real problems to deal with.” Click.
For a moment, Simone just stood there, fuming on the sidewalk. And then she let out a primal scream with the words, “Why am I friends with that bitch?”
Simone’s cellular buzzed. If it was Tilly calling back, then she was not going to pick up. No such worry. But the incomingnumber stumped her. “Hello?”
“This is your last chance, baby girl. I never have to ask twice, but for you I’m making an exception,” Kevon Edmonds said.
“I can’t talk right now,” Simone managed to say, mildly annoyed by the call but not revolted like she had been the other day.
“You sound stressed out,” Kevon said, his voice down an octave and the closest thing to real concern she had heard since the ordeal happened. “What’s wrong?”
Simone opened her mouth to offer some vague answer, then suddenly burst into tears.
“Everything’s cool, baby. I got your back. Everything’s cool,” Kevon said in a buttery voice that provided instant comfort. “I’m rolling, and I’m coming straight to you. Tell me where you are.”
Simone hesitated.
“I’m rolling straight to you, baby. Tell me where you are.”
Finally, she relented and called out Tommy’s Park Avenue address.
“Just chill right there. Do you hear me? Chill right there.”
“Okay,” Simone agreed meekly. Doing so flooded her with a sense of relief. Someone was taking charge. Someone besides her. It was a strange yet glorious feeling.
Simone waited for almost fifteen minutes. And then a 2008 H2 Hummer limousine coasted into view like a luxury liner. The front license plate emblazoned with the letters KEVONE dazzled obscenely with flashing white lights and sparkling rhinestones.
A rear door lurched open.
Simone peeked inside to see Kevon, cell phone planted to ear, nestled alone in a cabin built for at least sixteen passengers.
Silently, Kevon waved her into his sanctuary. “Listen, this big nose nigga can smell, and I’m not signing off on this shit until it’s right and tight.You know what I’m saying? Nobody’s going to buy perfume that smells like nasty ass pussy. I said I wanted that shit to smell like honeysuckle and cotton candy, and that punk ass bitch from Lancaster shows up with a bottleof nasty pussy spray. What the fuck is that? Work this out for me. Next time they call a meeting to sample a product with my name on it, I want to know that it’s in the hands of people who care about my rep. Now I got a situation here that needs my attention. Peace out.”
He reached over to shut the door behind her, cocooning them inside his purple pleasure palace on wheels.